Winter Wind

The first breath of winter woke Mable from a deep sleep. She had been dreaming of last summer, of humid days catching tadpoles and reading by the pond.

And Nell had been there. Mable was sure of it, though the details of the dream were already fuzzy. Nell had been there because she woke with an ache in her chest, that sad sweet feeling of being pulled forward towards someone that existed only in her past.

The cold draft that came through the floorboards of the old barn where she slept was so incompatible with the humid haze of her dream that she awoke instantly. She knew soon it would be too cold to sleep out here, and she’d have to retreat to her house, full of siblings and snoring and too many sounds and sensations that invaded her dreams. She never dreamt about Nell when she slept in the house.

It was just before dawn, a diffuse purple light illuminating the cows and chickens and ducks and grouse and other downy feathered things she preferred as bedfellows. Soon she would hear her name shouted from outside, summoned to tend to the farm chores or her baby sister, and another day would begin. Mable sighed and looked despondently at Daisy, her favorite cow, for sympathy. Daisy’s large black eyes looked back at her, full of genuine commiseration.

It had never been this way before Nell. In the 12 years before this one, the gentle monotony of Mable’s life never bothered her. But then Nell's family had come to her sleepy town for the summer, and the girl, one year Mable’s senior but decades more worldly, had blown through Mables life like the cold wind that sang through the barn’s wood walls, waking her from the sweet dream of not knowing there was more to want than what she had. Life had been unbearable since.

“Mable!” The voice came from the door, a loud whisper. Mable thought she might be hearing things. She could have sworn it was Nells voice. She knew it was wrong to want someone this much, and now she was going properly crazy for her sin.

“Mable, it's me, open the door!” Mable shot out of her makeshift bed faster than a field mouse ran from her barn cat and flung the door open.

Nell was there, miraculously, with her wild eyes and wilder curls and winter wind smile; Mable’s dream returned to her. She flung her arms around Mable.

“Ohhh it’s so good to see you! Thank God you were out here and not in the house, or this would be much harder.” Mable, stunned into silence, could do nothing but hold her tightly.

“I almost didn’t recognize the house with the big tree gone all orange, but then I saw Biscuit out front and I knew it was right.” Biscuit was Mables barn cat.

Nell pulled back out of their embrace to look at Mable. She was suddenly conscious of her bedhead and general gawkiness. They went to sit on the pile of blankets Mable had recently vacated.

“It’s so good to see you. You have no idea...” Mable trailed off. All those days of imagined conversations and now that Nell was here, she didn’t know what to say. When Mable was eight, she’d dislocated her shoulder falling out of the big tree, and she had to wait two hours with the broken wrongness of it until her father came back from town and set it right. Missing Nell had felt like that, and she was overcome with the relief of everything back in it’s right place.

“It was really bad when you were gone.” Was all she could say.

“Tell me what I missed.” Nell said, and suddenly the words were there, all in a flood. Mable and Nell talked and talked, coloring in the details of the last few months so thoroughly that when they finished it would be as if they’d lived them together.

Their conversation petered out like rain on a tin roof, until the only thing left to say was the question Mable was afraid to ask. She felt as if the answer would reveal the impossibility of Nell’s presence and she would disappear.

“Nell, how are you here?”

“I got your letter!” Nell exclaimed, and pulled out three tri folded pieces of stationary full of Mable’s handwriting. She’d begun writing to Nell last month after she’d left desperately scrawling her every thought and using her allowance for the postage. “You said you couldn’t wait for me to visit again. So I came.”

“On your own.” She would. It was the exact sort of thing Mable would never be brave enough to do, so Nell had probably done it.

“Yes. It’s really not far from the city. I’ll send a letter back to my dad today to let him know not to worry.” Nell waved her hand, as if to banish such mundane concerns they could worry about later. “I know it’s foolish, and I hope I’m not imposing but I just had to see you. Everything’s been rotten since August and I couldn’t bear it for another day.”

“As soon as your dad knows where you are, he’ll come get you.” And probably never let you see me again, Mable thought but didn’t say. She was too scared to speak it.

“Probably. Truth be told, I’ve not been clear with my intentions.” Nell paused, looking unsure for the first time in her life. The expression didn’t fit on her face. She grabbed Mable’s hands in hers and made urgent eye contact.

“Mable, let's go somewhere. I know it sounds crazy, but you said in your letter that you were unhappy without me, and I’ve been positively lonesome without you. Well go together, run until they catch us or we get sick of each other.” She paused and her tone changed, her voice softening like it did when she told Mable a secret. “If we don’t go now, we’ll regret it.” She said, grasping Mable’s hands tighter.

Mable was sure she was still dreaming. She looked at Nell, eyes drawn to a freckle below her ear that she’d forgotten about. Images came to her of Nell in profile, pulling her curls back from her neck, hair and skin slick with summer sweat. There and there and there and then gone.

She knew with a blistering surety that she’d follow Nell anywhere.

“Okay,” Mable said shyly. “Let’s go.” The pre-dawn light cast a purple hue to the scene. A thought intruded, that she had never seen Nell in the winter before. She thought she’d like to.